Scorpius's Decision
by SylviaW1991
Summary: Sequel to Scorpius's Request. Now that he's had his daddy back for a while, Scorp's pretty pleased with his life. But he doesn't get to see Harry enough, which must change! Obviously, he and daddy need to become more than just friends.
1. Letters by Owl

Welcome, everyone, to the sequel to_ Scorpius's Request_! XD

It took me a little longer to tack up here than I thought it would, but TAH-DAH. (Or ta-da? idk)

But yes. This _is_ the sequel and I hope you all enjoy it!

May the slash begin, and may Scorp be as cute as always

* * *

><p>Hermione cried less now. She also slept less. They hadn't had sex in <em>weeks<em> and she kept trying to force her husband to read childcare books, both magical and Muggle. And who in Godric's name wanted to spend their nights _reading childcare books_ when there were other things to do? Like having bloody sex while the baby was still asleep!

Harry took in these rants with just enough attention to know when to nod or make an agreeing or disgusted noise. He was behind on his paperwork... again, but it wasn't his fault. It was all Draco Malfoy's fault, him and those advanced copies. They'd kept him awake and distracted for days now, particularly since he'd read both books twice over. He was on a third go-through now, this time really trying to actually do what Draco had asked him to do.

"Alright, Potter, you're getting your advanced copies. But only," he'd added quickly, "if you pay attention to the way they do their job. My previous source couldn't exactly answer all of my questions, so some of this is off the cuff, as they say. If you can actually find things wrong, perhaps I'll accept that offer of your services. Assuming it still stands."

Of course it still stood. Harry would very gleefully give Draco any information he needed as long as it helped him churn these books out. Besides that, he was obviously higher in the rank than Draco's source, as he'd been promoted after defeating the T2T and _this_ was the book Draco needed help with. But that had been a good two weeks previous and Harry had been slammed with a case. Another Death Eater thing, Kingsley had called it.

Since finding Draco, Harry had taken it upon himself to find out what other cases were being brushed to the side just because the victims were Death Eaters or related/affiliated to them in any way. The list didn't seem to want to end and even Ron, who'd complained at first, was on board now. As a result, Kingsley had rounded up everyone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement except the Wizengamot Administration folks and had given them a refresher on their _jobs_.

Draco had smiled when Harry had let him know, but it had been a little shadowed. Just another one of their awkward moments, where both would remember which side they had once stood on and what it had taken for them to meet in the middle. If not for Scorpius, Harry never would've learned and possibly wouldn't have overmuch cared about the deaths of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Those awkward moments generally ended with Harry's own hasty retreat back to his flat.

Other awkward moments came about when Draco caught Harry staring at him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to. Particularly when he'd roll up his sleeves and drop to the floor to join him and Scorpius in some game. They were teaching him chess when Harry had last been by which was, according to the letter Scorpius had written him the day before, a "whole three weeks." Curiously, the letter had been written in Draco's handwriting. Harry glanced at the little folded letter for at least the thirtieth time in the past fifteen minutes, lips twitching. He couldn't read Scorpius's scribbles anyway, even though he could write his own name and simple words well enough. He also knew the alphabet and could do simple math and there's Andromeda's owl.

Harry blinked, jerked out of his reverie by the annoyed hooting. He sent Ron an accusing glare, getting an amused shrug in return. "Alright, alright. Come on, then." The owl stuck out its leg, ruffling its feathers to remind Harry that it was _very_ agitated and did not appreciate being kept waiting, thank you.

He dug a treat out of one of his drawers and passed it over, but the owl remained. Clearly, a response was expected. Sighing, Harry tore open the envelope and read Andromeda Tonks's flowing script.

_Harry,_

_ I have heard that you are back home after that Aruban case. I have also heard that your friend has had her child. Do tell Hermione and Ron that I'm very pleased and wish them all the best of health._

_ Speaking of children, Teddy misses you. You haven't been to see him in quite a while. He misses you, Harry. You're his godfather, after all. When should I expect you?_

_~Mrs. Tonks_

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry leaned back and sighed. It was true. He _hadn't_ seen Teddy in a while and he was missing the kid himself. He'd nearly be ten now. One more year and off to Hogwarts. He smiled at that thought. Six more for Scorpius, he recalled, and his smile widened.

He missed both boys and wondered suddenly if Andromeda and Draco would both appreciate a night or two off. He had the weekend free, after all, which was a sad state of affairs as it was. Taking care of two boys would be entertaining at least.

Decision made, he pulled out two pieces of parchment and dashed two relatively similar letters, though Draco's he spent a little bit of extra time on. Sure he'd spent a couple of days taking care of his child just three months ago, but that hadn't been by choice. Since then, Harry hadn't really spent any time alone with the darling boy. As the trial of his abductors - ex-wife and former friend - drew nearer, the former Slytherin seemed to be unconsciously clinging to his son. A little break would probably do them both some good.

Then of course, Harry decided to ball up that letter and write directly to Scorpius. There was always a chance that Draco wouldn't mention it to the boy otherwise and, though this was a bit more under-handed way to get what he wanted, Harry knew that Scorpius would probably be thrilled at the prospect at staying with him for a weekend.

He'd have to make sure that he didn't have subpar peaches or, worse, no apples. He'd also have to pick up a few things that Teddy liked as well, so pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment to write out a shopping list after convincing the owl (thank Merlin he had enough treats to feed an entire owlery) to take the letter to Scorpius first and then head to Andromeda.

"Oi. Hermione wants to know if you want to invite Scorpius over for dinner tonight, bein' Friday and all. She hasn't seen him in a while."

Harry glanced up. "I may have Teddy as well," he warned.

Ron grinned, nodding. "Grand. Haven't seen him in a while, either." He shut a folder, his own paperwork finished, and got to his feet for a stretch. "Oh, and Hermione says if Draco wants to come along, he can."

"Are you sure it won't distract from your no-sex life?"

A ball of wadded paper had to be dodged a moment later, though Harry was laughing. "Don't be a git, Harry." But Ron couldn't quite quell his own twitching lips. "I thought Bill was kidding around when he said sex'd never be the same after kids, y'know? When we _do_ have it-"

"Ron, I can barely stand watching the two of you snog. Can we _not_ talk about what the sex is like? I've had more than enough of that line of conversation."

"Well, then, how's _your_ sex life?"

Nonexistent. His fantasy life was pretty busy, but the physical part was considerably lacking. He gave Ron a small, secret smile. "Do you really want to know?"

"No," the redhead decided. "Really don't actually. Anyway, owl ahead if you're coming."

"I probably will, with or without anyone else in tow."

"Alright. See you soon then, mate." Ron sent him a half-hearted salute before chucking some powder into their personal floo and heading home.

Amused, Harry retrieved yet another sheet of parchment and scrawled a quick letter. It was to Draco this time, inviting him to the Weasley's. And then, rather than taking Scorpius with him, Harry could just take the boy to his own flat. That would work.

He addressed the envelope quickly, realized it was his last, and held it up for the owl in their office to swoop from its perch. It nibbled on the treat Harry gave it, leaving behind crumbs as it flew out of the room, the envelope attached to its leg. Harry only hoped it arrived before Draco replied to his other letter.

And then, sighing, Harry hunkered down to finish his paperwork and await the replies.

* * *

><p>*hunkers down and awaits the reviews*<p> 


	2. Letters Read

_Scorpius-_

"That's me." The boy tapped at the letters at the top of the page, interrupting before his father had really had a chance to begin. "Harry wrote me a letter."

"So I see." Draco Malfoy adjusted his son more comfortably in his lap. "Shall I read it to you or are you going to talk over me?"

He looked up through bangs that were in need of yet another trim. Draco resisted the sigh, only brushing his fingers through the soft strands. His hair grew like a weed but, as his mother informed him each time he complained, his own hair had been just as quick. "Read it, read it! I wanna know what my letter says, daddy!"

Now Draco did sigh, lifting the letter up again.

_Scorpius-_

_ You're right. It __has__ been a whole three weeks since I saw you last._

"That's a long time," the boy interrupted and Draco congratulated himself on ignoring it.

_I would love to see you more often, really, but the cases I've been on lately have been tough ones. You know I don't stop until the very end._

Now Scorpius tilted his head back and grinned at his father, revealing the tooth he'd lost just the day before. Draco only ran a hand through his hair before continuing.

_But I've just come off one, with the bad guy headed off to Azkaban, and find myself with a free weekend. Ask your daddy if you can spend it with me. I'll most likely have Teddy as well, so you can finally meet him. I know you've been wanting to and, if you're lucky, there may be pancakes for breakfast._

_ So ask if it's alright that you come over. I'll bet it will be. Your daddy works awfully hard, and I'm sure he'd appreciate having the house all to himself for a couple of days._

Sneaky git, was Draco's opinion of that, but Scorpius's absolutely delighted expression had his lips twitching in amusement. It wasn't as though Potter was completely incompetent, either. He'd co-raised his godson, after all, and when Harry was over and playing with Scorpius, his affection tended to shine through every little thing he did.

And perhaps a weekend to himself would do him some good, let him relax. With the trials drawing closer, Draco's nerves had been steadily mounting. He'd been a little clingier than usual to his son, and irritatingly distracted from his writings. A couple of days on his own _would_ be appreciated, and he could trust Harry. It was a continuous surprise, but he could.

_If he says yes, owl me and I'll pick you up tonight. If he says no to you, have Perry ask. No one can say no to Perry._

_-H.P._

Have Perry ask. If Draco hadn't already been leaning in the direction of allowing it, that would have tipped his hand. Scorpius rarely went anywhere without his beloved unicorn. Only when they went to the park did Perry stay home, but that was only to keep him from getting dirty and somebody had to watch the house, after all.

"Daddy," Scorpius began, tone serious. Draco lifted a brow and bit the inside of his cheek to keep the smile at bay. "You work awfully hard, so Perry and I think you should send us away to Harry's house for the whole entire weekend."

"Perry thinks so, does he?"

Scorpius nodded rapidly, lifting the unicorn in his lap. "Tell him, Perry." There was a beat of silence. "Okay?"

Draco considered another moment, though he'd already decided to let Harry have his way. How would Potter react, he wondered, if he asked to meet Teddy? They were rather closely related, all things considered. The boy was his mother's great-nephew, his own second-cousin. And it really wasn't his fault that he'd never met the boy's mother - Nymphadora? - or his aunt Andromeda. Those were ties that had been cut long before he'd even been born.

He remembered the boy's father from Third Year, the man who had turned out to be a werewolf. He'd been... Well, he'd been an excellent professor. By far the best they'd had in all the years Draco had gone to Hogwarts. But he'd had such shabby clothes and those ugly scars on his face and... and he'd very clearly adored Harry. And Draco had been thirteen years old and still very much a Malfoy heir, so he'd made fun of the shabby clothes and the greying hair. He'd rushed headlong at a bloody Hippogriff and, if he was remembering correctly, that had also been the year Hermione Weasley, Granger then, had given him a very solid punch in the jaw. He couldn't quite recall what he'd done to deserve it, but he was vaguely certain the injury had been well-earned.

Certain that Hermione would remember just why and when she's struck him, Draco rubbed a hand over his jaw and watched the impatience begin to cloud his son's features. "Yes, you can spend the weekend with Auror Potter."

With this acquiescence came the squeals. Perry was thrown skyward and he was scrambling from his father's lap to catch him again. Draco only winced at the kick to his thigh, as it had been accidental, and let his child run in dizzying circles through the living room, tossing Perry again and again.

Shaking his head, Draco vanished the words from the parchment with a flick of his wand and took a moment to stare at the hawthorn. He'd gotten a new wand, somewhere between the end of the war and Harry's stilted return of this one while they worked to rebuild Hogwarts the summer after the war. It had been a very awkward conversation, full of muttered thank you's and half-whispered apologies. And then Potter had said, "See you around" and positively _winced_ directly afterwards as if horrified by the very thought of seeing Draco Malfoy anywhere.

And Draco had promptly gone to his room - the remains of Slytherin's dungeons - and written angsty, ansgty porn.

To have it back now and to have it be the only wand at his disposal kept bringing about things he'd rather not remember, but... Harry had returned it to him so very differently this time. He'd simply whipped it out of his sleeve and had offered it alongside a wry grin. And then he'd dropped down, ruffled his son's hair, and the "See you around" had been for them both. There'd been no wince, just a loud laugh at something silly Scorpius had said in response. (The porn he'd gone and written after that encounter hadn't been angsty, so much as hot and needy... it was becoming a compulsion.)

Draco sighed quietly, tucking away his wand and glancing at his son. Scorpius had tired himself out and lay sprawled on the carpet, chattering to Perry about all the things they were going to do over the weekend. Draco was doubtful of their chances of going to the moon, but let the boy have his dreams.

A quill was plucked up and his response to Harry just started when yet another owl tapped at his window. Brow lifted, Draco rose and took the envelope. Another from Harry? This one, though, was addressed to him and the owl stuck around as if expecting a snappy reply.

He opened the envelope quickly, hoping it wasn't Harry changing his mind. Scorpius was already so excited and - oh.

_Draco,_

The blonde paused, studying his own name on the page. Harry had hesitated over it. He could clearly see that the 'D' had started as an 'M' based on the awkward stilt of it. It was always a little bit of a start to hear his first name coming from the auror, so used to the memories of being _Malfoy_, his surname spat like soured wine. Why was Harry trying so hard to change that?

And why, when Draco thought of him, did Harry come so much easier than Potter...?

_ Sorry about this. Two letters in ten minutes can be irritating, but it couldn't really be helped. Ron's pants at remembering to give me details. And Hermione's invited us to dinner. She misses Scorpius and, well, the pair of you are a package deal. If you've agreed to let Scorpius stay the weekend with me - which I hope you do; I miss the kid - you can just leave him with me when you go home._

_ I'll most likely have Teddy there, too, and I'm not sure if that's going to be a problem for you or not. I know Andromeda was blasted off the Black Family's tapestry. Considering, though, that it had nothing to do with you, I wasn't sure what you think about her or Teddy._

_ He's about ten, by the way, and a metamorphmagus like his mum. He's a good kid. I'm thinking he and Scorp'll get along fine._

_ So just let me know if you're coming. I can meet you at your place after I pick up Teddy and I'll take you by Ron/Hermione's. Don't tell her I said this if you want me to live another day, by the way, but she's not as brilliant in the kitchen as she is in a library, so the sooner we make it there, the sooner I can "help" her cook. Hopefully, we end up at the Burrow._

_-Harry_

He hadn't signed this one with his initials, Draco realized, brushing his thumb over the simple name as he read the letter a second time. "Us," it said. "Hermione invited _us_." And then Harry had felt the need to tell him about Teddy, making sure that he'd be alright with it.

Salazar... What was he supposed to do about this damn man?

Draco rubbed his temples when he felt a hand tug at his slacks. "Daddy, what's that for?"

"It's another letter from Harry." At the delighted sound, Draco couldn't help but smile. "We're going to be having dinner with the Weasleys."

"Ron and 'Mione and Baby?"

Of course it was all Ron's fault that he didn't call the child by her real first name. Harry had been watching Scorpius the day Hermione had gone into labor and, when he'd learned that they were in St. Mungo's, Draco had popped over to fetch his son and been treated to a slap on the back and an entire roomful of Weasleys. They'd been absolutely intimidating, really, and he'd stared down the Wizengamot and been in a room full of Death Eaters and their Lord. But Ron had come into the room at one point, shouting about the baby and unable to speak clear sentences, consistently leaving out definite and indefinite articles.

"Baby's fine; Baby's healthy. Baby's beautiful." And his son had decided that rather than Rose, the new arrival (who Scorpius insisted had come out magically, much to Draco's amusement), was actually named Baby.

Draco ran his fingers through his son's hair, vaguely wondered if he'd ever get out of that habit. "Yes, Scorpius. All of them."

"I like 'Mione even though she doesn't have Baby in her anymore. She still has really funny hair and she and Ron still kiss lots."

"I'm sure they do," Draco interjected, derailing the rant about married people his son had adopted from somewhere. He liked to insist that married people were always super happy 'cause they were in love and stuff and there were babies. Draco highly doubted that he would ever be able to explain to his son that there'd already been no love when he'd been conceived. Though the blonde often wondered if there'd ever been love in the first place...

Thinking of the woman who'd _abducted_ him, he somehow doubted there had been.

"I'm going to write Harry a response and then we'll pack you a bag for your weekend stay."

Arms thrown into the air on an excited sound, Scorpius charged up the stairs to get to his bedroom and start packing on his own. Mourning the almost certain loss of organized drawer's and a clean armoire, Draco returned to the blank parchment and plucked up his quill once more.

He let it hover over the paper a moment before deciding to take a chance. _Harry_ was scrawled at the top.

* * *

><p>b'aw<p>

I love, love, LOVE Scorpius.

And, oh, Draco. You are going to be SO MUCH FUN to write. The last one was centered so much around Harry that I'm thinking most of this one will be centered around Draco

I cannot wait XD


	3. Dinner

D:

I feel like crap for not updating sooner!

I'm so sorry, everyone

At least it's a pretty decent length, yes?

* * *

><p>Scorpius flew straight into Harry's arms the moment he stumbled in through the floo. Draco tried, as he always did, to not smirk at the auror. Honestly, he'd been dealing with them at least since he was eleven; the man should know how to execute a better landing by now. But then he tilted his head up, fingers stroking through Scorpius's hair, and offered a sheepish smile. Draco's lips had no choice but to abandon the smirk and become an answering curve of lips.<p>

"Well, Potter, it's been a while."

"Yeah, sorry. Pansy Parkinson's cousin was being tried based on circumstantial evidence for... something." And the glance Harry aimed at the child let Draco know that it was a very serious something, even if he hadn't already known about the case. Pans had floo called him for the first time in months to rant about it. "Anyway, Ron and I did some digging and managed to clear her."

"Yes. I'd heard." She'd also called to brag. "Very well done, Auror."

"Thanks." He straightened, letting Scorpius take his hand. "Anyway, Teddy's just behind me. You're sure about this?"

Draco's mouth went a little dry, but he dismissed it. "Of course. I have nothing against a child. Or his parents," he added after a quiet moment. It led to one of their awkward moments, things which Draco was becoming tired of. He waved a hand. "Step out of the way if the boy's behind you. Wouldn't want him to end up somewhere else or only half-through."

Harry stepped forward quickly at that suggestion, hauling the giggling Scorpius up effortlessly and settling him on his hip. Draco ignored the flash of - what he decided to label - irritation at the way his muscles bunched and rippled. Why in Salazar's name was the man wearing a _t-shirt_ and where were his robes?

"Sorry I'm a little late too, by the way. Took Teddy home to drop his stuff off and I had a quick shower." That explained that, then. Draco looked up, eyes meeting Harry's, and immediately dropped his occlumency barrier down. He didn't actually think that Harry had any talent at legilimency, but there was just something so disconcerting about those eyes.

"It's fine, of course. You didn't exactly specify a time."

A grin flashed just as another figure was swept out of the floo. It was a boy, twice Scorpius's age. He looked normal enough, if a little on the thin side and then there was the fact that his hair was a moss green. He beamed, gave a shy wave, and tucked himself close to Harry. "Hi," he greeted. "Grandma says you're my cousin, but I should call you Uncle Draco or Mr. Malfoy 'cause you're older."

Draco had little idea as to how to respond to that, so took a cue from Harry's smile. "Uncle Draco is more than acceptable, Teddy."

"Hi!" Scorpius greeted and Harry laughed, cupping the boy's chin in his hand.

"You've lost a tooth!" he realized and Draco looked over at the sheer glee in Potter's expression. He felt a surge of warmth that he let furl into a smile only because it had to do with his son. Harry had an amazing habit of realizing things about Scorpius that made the child giggle as he was now doing.

"Yup! Yesterday." He stuck his tongue through the little space and rounded on Teddy to show him as well. "Isn't it cool?"

"Yeah," Teddy agreed. "I lost almost all my baby teeth already. And guess what! _I_ get to go to Hogwarts next year! If I get my letter. Right, Uncle Harry?"

"Exactly right," Harry replied, smiling widely for both boys. It didn't waver when he looked up at Draco. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, I suppose. We can come back here for Scorpius's things after dinner."

"Sure." He stood, threw some powder into the floo and called out the destination for one boy and then the other before nudging them through. And then Harry turned back to Draco, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Ah... Andromeda wants to know if you'd like to meet her at any point."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So whenever you're interested, let me know." He grabbed a pinch of powder for himself, pausing when a hand touched his shoulder.

"How about Sunday? When you have to take Teddy back." If he didn't do it then, Draco wasn't sure when else he'd work up the nerve.

Harry's smile bloomed anew and he nodded. "That'll work. I'll owl her to make sure, but I doubt she'll object." Draco nodded, stepping back and gesturing to his floo to allow Harry to go on ahead. "Don't chicken out," was his last shot before going through.

Draco scowled after him, defiantly grabbing some powder even though no one was around to see. Chicken out. He could handle a dinner with the Golden Trio. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how his life had come to _dinner with the Golden Trio_.

Sighing, he threw the powder into the flames before Ha- Pot- the git could stick his head in and ask if he'd changed his mind. "Weasley Residence," he snapped and stepped through.

He arrived to screams, some of which from his own son. He watched, entirely unsure of the situation, as Teddy latched onto his son's hand and dove behind the couch to avoid Ron's pounding feet.

"For heaven's sake, Ron!" came a call from an unseen Hermione Gr- Weasley. "If you wake Rosie, I _will_ have to hurt you!"

"I haven't done anything," Ron replied, stopping when he saw Draco before the floo. "Oh. Hullo, Malfoy."

He gave a nod. At least with the redhead, he still knew where he stood. There was always a vague sense of surprise when it came to their meetings - "Oh, right, Draco Malfoy isn't an irritating sod that we hate anymore."

"Weasley," Draco greeted and his initial "where's Harry?" instinct was replaced with, "What are you doing to my son?"

"He's a dragon, daddy!" came the delighted voice behind the couch.

"Shh!" quickly followed.

Ron's lips twitched with amusement. "They're hiding."

"And doing a superb job of it," Draco mused. "It's a shame that dragons have such excellent senses of smell." Quietly, he made his way to the couch and sat on the edge, leaning over the arm. He angled his head and Ron took the cue, making his way to the opposite edge of the couch. "It shouldn't take you long at all to locate them."

"I'll say," Ron agreed and pounded the wall.

Scorpius shot out the other side, squealing when arms suddenly wrapped around him. "Daddy!" he cried, startled. He looked up, realized that it really _was_ his father and stuck his tongue out at Ron because he was clearly safe now. And then he was squealing because Draco had flipped him upside-down and was carrying him across the room by the ankles.

Teddy shot out from behind the couch, weaving around Draco's legs and laughing excitedly about this new game. Scorpius was giggling and gave an awed exclamation when Teddy's green hair suddenly became puce. "How'd you do that?"

He tugged on a messy lock, grinning. "What, this? I'm a meta..." He pursed his lips, trying to remember the word. "Metamorphmagus."

"That's excellent!" Scorpius was red-faced from the exertion of fleeing dragon!Ron as well as the blood rushing to his head from his father. They stopped at the edge of the kitchen and Scorpius saw his number one ally. "Harry!" he squeaked. "Save me!"

Harry looked up from the pot he was observing and let out a laugh when he saw the state the child was in. "I dunno if I can. Your daddy seems awfully determined to keep you like that."

"No!" he squealed, writhing. "You _have_ to!"

"He's bossier than Kingsley," Harry mused and tapped his wand idly against his palm. "How about it, Draco? I'll duel you for his freedom."

Draco chuckled mildly. "I believe the last time we formally dueled, it was interrupted by your penchant for snake charming."

"That never would've happened if you had listened. Defensive spells only," Ron reminded him, striding in with a bundle in his arms.

"Oh, Ron, I told you not to wake her."

"She was already up," he said, handing the baby off.

"It's Baby!" Scorpius cried, swinging a bit like a pendulum now.

Hermione smiled, bouncing her daughter lightly and making cooing sounds as she abandoned dinner preparations to sink into a chair and cuddle her daughter. Ron joined Harry at the stove and muttered something that made him laugh. At once, Draco felt like an outsider. He righted his son and set him down, watched as he scrambled to Hermione to get a look at Baby. "Why's Baby still so little?" he wondered, standing on his toes.

Hermione shifted the girl to the crook of her arm, lifted Scorpius to her lap with the other. "Here. You hold her." Absolute glee passed over those little features and then he caught his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated hard on figuring out how to hold the bundle.

"She's heavy," he complained, but wasn't about to let go now that he had her. "Harry! Daddy! I did it!"

Draco blinked, a little taken aback that he'd called Harry first. The wizard looked over and Draco watched as his curious expression melted into one of pure affection. "That's excellent, Scorp."

"Yes, it is," Draco mused, more to himself than anyone else. Harry's grin flashed and it did irritating things to Draco's system. He cleared his throat and stepped in, sinking into a chair beside Hermione since she had his son.

He was even more startled when Teddy climbed into his lap. Hermione caught his look and laughed softly, mindful of the children in her own lap. "He isn't shy in the least. Are you, Teddy?"

"He's my cousin," he replied, as if that explained absolutely everything.

As Draco looked down at the mop of now white-blonde hair, he realized that it probably did explain everything. This child and Andromeda were all the family he had left besides Scorpius. His family line had very nearly reached its end. After all, Teddy wasn't a pure-blood. His mother had been half and his father... Well, Draco wasn't entirely certain _what_ Remus Lupin had been. But Scorpius... he was it. If Scorpius didn't marry a pure-blooded woman or at the very least reproduced with one, the pure-blooded Malfoy line would be gone.

Draco sank back into his chair, absolutely shocked by the realization. His father would doubtlessly expect him to raise Scorpius in a way that guaranteed a continuation of that line. Just as he had been...

Not for the first time, Draco wished his parents had decided to have more children and sighed.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts, so he glanced up to find her staring rather worriedly at him. He only lifted a brow. "Are you alright?"

"Putting a few things in perspective." He waved a hand dismissively, brushed it through Teddy's hair on the way down. "I apologize. I'll leave my introspection at home."

"Daddy has lots of thoughts," Scorpius put in and it earned a chuckle from his father.

"Thank you for that tidbit."

"Thoughts about what?" Harry asked and Draco sent a quick look his way to find the blasted man grinning.

"Um..." Scorpius bit his lip, studying the baby he had cradled in his arms. "Daddy," he whispered loudly, "what do you think about?"

Draco's lips twitched. "Grown-up things," he murmured and Scorpius nodded decisively, his question answered.

"Growed up things," he supplied and Harry laughed, abandoning the pot to Ron as he wandered to Scorpius and ruffled his hair before slipping Rose from his grasp.

"Have you told Hermione about your tooth?" he asked quickly, distracting from any dissension at having the baby taken.

It worked immediately, the child turning in her lap and grinning at her, tongue poking out of the new whole. "I lost a tooth!"

"Oh! Are you going to put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy?" Hermione asked, beaming at him.

"Uh... What's a tooth fairy...?"

Scorpius sent a baffled look over his shoulder, but Draco was saved from answering the befuddling question - what in Salazar's name _was_ a tooth fairy? - by Teddy. His eyes lit up. "It's when you lose a baby tooth and you stick it under your pillow and a fairy comes in and leaves you a whole galleon for it."

Scorpius's jaw dropped. "A _whole_ galleon? For a _tooth_?"

"Yeah!"

"I have to tell Perry!" Scorpius exclaimed, wriggling down from Hermione. He streaked back to the living room and Teddy jumped from Draco to follow suit.

Draco lifted a brow, turning to the witch. "A... tooth fairy?"

"Well., I realize that fairies aren't necessarily smart creatures, but-"

He held up a hand, interrupting her. "Is it a Muggle thing?"

"What's wrong with that, Malfoy?"

Draco turned his gaze to the redhead, catching Harry's rather curious wince out of the corner of his eye. "Did I say there was anything wrong with it, Weasley? I was merely asking a _question_. If it is a Muggle thing, that would explain why I've never heard of it rather than a lack in my parenting skills."

"Yes," Hermione supplied, eager to disrupt the argument before it could begin. "It's a Muggle thing. It treats losing teeth as something to celebrate. It signifies getting older, being mature enough to handle the money left. And there are times when losing teeth can hurt, so it soothes that a little."

Draco nodded, leaning back in his chair as Teddy and Scorpius rushed back in. "Tooth Fairy it is, then."

Scorpius cheered, climbing into his father's lap, his unicorn clutched in his hand. "The tooth fairy really likes Harry's house," Teddy confided, grinning at his godfather. "Right?"

Scorpius cheered again, then blinked and gave his father a horrified look. "I don't have my tooth!"

Draco smoothed his son's hair, smiling fondly. "I highly doubt that'll be an issue. Surely she can locate your tooth wherever it is and still reward you."

Scorpius looked to 'Mione since she was the one who'd mentioned this money-giving creature in the first place and she only laughed. "That's very possible," she agreed and there was a loud sound, followed by a splash of whatever had been in the pot. "Ronald!" she squealed and jumped up, snatching her messy and squealing daughter from Harry. Muttering about imbeciles under her breath, she stormed out.

And Harry and Ron high-fived. "I'll tell mum we'll be there for supper," Ron said, grinning widely. "You clean up in here before Hermione has a fit."

"Yeah." Ron scurried out and Teddy ran off, following to say hi to Mrs. Weasley.

Draco sighed heavily, retrieving his wand to clean himself and his delightfully giggling son off. "What in god's name was that, Potter?"

"My good deed for the day - rescuing you from Hermione's cooking."

Draco lifted a brow, letting his squirming son down to chase after Teddy and Ron. "And do you only have one good deed a day?"

"Who can afford more in this economy?" he quipped, grinning broadly.

The idiot had yet to vanish the muck of food from himself, so Draco rose and walked over. "Who, indeed," he murmured and tapped his wand to the auror's nose, cleaning him. And then he realized just what he'd done and started to draw back.

Harry's hand caught his wrist before he could pull it away and there was a long moment of silence. As Harry's grin faded, Draco struggled to keep his pulse at an even keel. "Thanks," he finally said and Draco convinced himself that his tone wasn't even remotely husky. It was his entirely over-active imagination.

"You're welcome," the blonde replied and felt a shiver work its way up his spine when Harry finally released him. Those eyes were still on his, searching them, and Draco snapped his Occlumency shield up. "Shall I... help you clean the mess your good deed caused?"

"Sure." Harry stepped back, running a hand through his messy locks and flushing slightly. "Yeah. Thanks. Listen, I'm... sorry about Ron."

"Old habits die hard, as they say. It's fine, Harry." He froze mid wand lift, as did Harry. Quickly recovering - after all, he'd written the man's first name on that letter back, hadn't he? - Draco cleaned off the floor with a decisive spell.

"It's kind of surprising to see how good you are with cleaning spells," Harry mused.

Draco shrugged, focusing on the one thing he figured they had in common while he and Harry finished cleaning the destroyed kitchen. "Yes. As clean as Scorpius is, one would think I'd never have to use a single one."

That earned him Harry's laugh, full and amused, and Draco couldn't help but smile in response. "Yeah. True enough. Never makes a single mess when he's helping cook."

"Flour bags are perfectly safe in his grasp." Kitchen clean, Draco stowed his wand away. "Now your good deed isn't going to turn tragic, is it? I'm not going to have to deal with the entire Weasley clan?"

Harry laughed again, shaking his head. "I highly doubt it. But even if it does, the food'll be excellent."

"Daddy, Harry!" Scorpius bounded in, latched onto his father's pent leg. "C'mon! Mrs. Weas-a-ley says we can go over! I wanna chase the dog! And so does Teddy!" He waved his unicorn. "And Perry too."

"Let's go then. I'm hungry."

"Yeah!" Scorpius agreed, latching onto his father's offered hand and marching out of the kitchen. Draco looked back at Harry, a completely uncalled for smile curving his lips.

But then Harry had to go and answer it with one of his own and Draco turned away to avoid the sigh. Damn Gryffindors.

* * *

><p>Oh, god. Draco's so much fun. :D<p> 


	4. Tiring Evening

Yay, quick update

Full of Draco XD

* * *

><p>Ten years ago, had anyone had told him he'd be eating dinner with the Weasleys, his first inclination would've been to ask, "You mean I'll be alive in ten years?" After all, it had been rather touch-and-go that year... Eleven years? No, he'd been trying to murder Dumbledore... sort of. Hating every moment of it.<p>

Twelve years. He cast a tempus charm, studied the little date that appeared along with the odd-looking clock. No. Thirteen years. Thirteen years ago that day Harry had been underwater, being the hero he'd always been. Thirteen years ago, Draco had known that there was a plan to bring his father's Lord back, but it hadn't quite struck the chord it probably should have.

Thirteen years ago, he'd been - he could admit - a stuck-up twit, incredibly jealous that Harry bloody Potter was in this tournament and actually looking forward to...

Draco sighed. He hadn't known exactly what would happen, hadn't quite put it all together in his fourteen year old mind that having the Dark Lord back would bring about so much war and death and... He winced, realized as a shock of pain shivered up his arm that he'd been digging his nails into his Dark Mark. Blood oozed from the small wounds and Draco lowered his hand and started for the stairs.

It amazed him, truly, that Harry had never mentioned the Mark. Surely he'd seen it. Draco had his sleeves rolled up as often as they were down, particularly when playing with Scorpius. That was pure habit, born of Scorpius's old fascination with pulling out cufflinks. He'd lost many a pair that first two years.

He meandered into his bedroom, stared all of five seconds at his bed before turning and walking down the hall to his office. He wasn't going to write porn. He absolutely was not.

An hour later he was in the shower, body quivering in the aftershocks as the hot spray beat upon his back. He'd written porn. And then he'd wanked to thoughts of green eyes. Damn it all... This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to feel this attraction. It wasn't as though this was a new thing, anyway. It's just now that, besides bloody gorgeous, Harry had learned... charm. Effortless charm and, Merlin, he was precious when he was being tackled by a bunch of wild children.

Scorpius had been wet and covered in mud, but Harry had simply swept him up and let himself fall dramatically to the ground when Teddy and Bill's two had joined in. He'd laughed and rolled with them and then, later, when they'd been in the living room for children-free coffee conversation, he'd bounced little Rose on his knee and cuddled her happily when she'd fallen asleep until Ron had plucked his daughter away.

Ron had, amazingly, been less than irritating. Though Draco privately believed it had been his spiked drink that had accounted for his chipper mood... and definitely for the _joke_ he'd told about the time Hermione had punched Draco in the face. And, well, even Draco had laughed because the tale had been humorous.

But then Harry had _grinned_ at him and it had stirred... It had stirred nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He pointed accusingly at his stirring prick. "No. We will _not_ entertain thoughts of Harry James Potter. He will be..." Draco didn't quite know how to label this relationship - "No, not relationship. Tentative friendship. Very tentative," he added and reached out for his shampoo. No more of this ridiculousness, he told himself. He had the weekend free to do as he liked.

Funny that he had it, would've traded his right arm for it the day before, and now would trade said arm to have the child back. Draco sighed, head falling back as he lathered his hair. Why hadn't Potter - because thinking of him as _Harry_ was clearly unwise - done the sensible thing? Save him, give him back his son, scoot right back out of his life.

But then Potter, damn him, had never been _sensible_. It was honestly rather irritating. Yes, he affirmed, irritating. He was not charming or surprisingly funny or bloody fucking adorable with children surrounding him. He was none of those things.

Draco shook his hair back, stepping beneath the spray. He was all of those things, and wasn't that just... wrong? Stupid bloody Potter and all his ridiculous perfection. Even though he was far from that as well.

He blew out a long breath, annoyed with himself. This was ridiculous. He was clearly fighting a losing battle. He was attracted to the wizard. The Saviour of the Wizarding World. The Chosen One. The Boy-Who-Lived... two bloody times. Who on this earth survived two Killing Curses?

Not Voldemort, he thought sardonically, lip curling into a familiar sneer. At one time it had been familiar anyway. It was harder to affect nowadays, not after being on his own with Scorpius for so long. Interaction with the rest of the Wizarding world tended to be brief, though the more time he spent with Potter and the Weasleys, the longer those interactions were getting. Still. Less sneering was required. It was so odd. It was a slow process, barring nights like this one had been and the one where Rose had been born, but the Weasleys were slowly drawing him into their ginger folds.

Why? he wondered. Why was this so easy? Why was he falling in with their lot...? Though Merlin knew it was difficult to resist Molly Weasley, the family matriarch. She was certainly wider than his own mother, but no less... He sighed. Well, she was a mother. And the hug she'd given him before he'd left had almost desperately been returned. Almost. He'd managed to pat her back and draw away when prudent rather than cling as though his life depended on it.

But the temptation to cling was odd in itself.

After turning the water off, Draco stepped out of the shower and removed his towel from the rack bolted to the wall. He regarded it with his usual mix of exasperation and admiration. This Muggle-intended home came with all kinds of things like that. And while there was a certain familiarity with just having a towel floating nearby or, more likely, a drying charm, Draco did enjoy being able to just pluck a towel from a hanger and wrap the fluffy blanket-like thing around his frame. He tucked it around his waist and wandered out of the steamy room to see what Scorpius was up to.

But it was quiet and he remembered. No squealing had brought him out of his nice, hot shower. No shouts of apology from something that had been spilled or broken. Many a vase had been repaired over and over and over again thanks to Perry's rather random flight-pattern.

His boy was with Harry and, with him, the unicorn. Running a hand through his damp hair, Draco went to his armoire, studied the contents disinterestedly, and went to his dresser instead for a pair of simple black pants. He had _free time_. He could relax in whatever the devil he wanted and boxers were a quintessential element in relaxing. Once upon a time, he'd been able to spend a day languishing in just this. But then had come the abomination that was his marriage and even having a hair in place before Astoria was nothing but troublesome.

"What if we have _company_?" or "_You_ go work at that damned shop, then. You know I hate books!" or "You're a _Malfoy_. Act like it for once, why don't you?"

And then Scorpius had been born... "He's crying again, and I'm not in the mood to deal with it. Take him out." That had been her favorite. "Take him out. Take him away. Get out. Go away. I'm not in the mood."

She'd never been in the mood and, damn it all, Draco had tried. He'd married the dratted woman as his parents - his _father_ - had wanted. After the war, his parents had wanted some semblance of order, of familiarity. Having Draco do as expected, as told, was both orderly and familiar. So he'd written his books for himself, had married the woman, had bought and started the bookshop on a whim. And he'd been successful there or as successful as to be expected for one who bore a Dark Mark. Plenty of people had come in and had asked if he had _really_ disarmed Dumbledore or if Harry had just said that. Draco would lift his brow, hand them their change, and ask if they were really doubting the word of the Saviour.

He'd worn his sleeves down a lot then...

He glanced at his arm, studied the tattoo. He supposed it was... intriguing enough. It was surprisingly attractive, for all it represented. He'd seen young people with similar markings on their necks and legs and - on one memorable character - the entire center of his face, the snake's tail poking out of his nose. Of course, those young people tended to be interested in the darker side of magic... And were more than likely less than intelligent.

Still, though, it was fascinating to see this Mark becoming a symbol of entertainment ten years later. There was no Dumbledore suggesting that he would one day return - Draco felt a pang at his part in that, though it was easily ignored - and every time someone would look to Har- Potter for clarification, he would assure everyone that the danger had passed.

His scar didn't hurt, whatever ridiculousness that meant, but it was reassuring to the masses. Perhaps Draco would get the chance to ask...

Frowning, deciding that the house was entirely _too_ quiet, Draco found himself wandering to his office. He went to a far wall, found the phonograph that resided below the window and between two tall bookshelves, and fiddled with it for a few, aggravated moments. It was difficult being unable to perform magic in this room, the one he spent the most time in. But the Muggle technologies he had were disrupted entirely too easily. He'd lost more than one computer and, as wonderful as quill and parchment were, he'd found the Word processor... thing on the Muggle contraption to be incredibly useful for both spelling and editing purposes. Much easier to insert or change a word or even delete entire paragraphs when it was on the computer.

Though the Muggle class he'd had to take in order to figure out how to even turn the blasted thing on had been... embarrassing and was a secret he would take to the grave.

When music finally poured out of the thing, Draco smiled with triumph and stepped back. To put himself in the writing mood - _not_ porn - he began to wonder what Rhys's reaction to Celestia's incredible pipes would be. The "he wouldn't have one" had him laughing because, surely, Kian would have quite a bit to say about that. Kian Hopkins had quite a bit to say about a lot of things; it was one of the many things Draco was particularly fond of when it came to his main character.

Draco dropped into the chair at his desk, let a scene play out in his mind and flow through his fingers and out the end of his quill until his fingers grew cramped and his dictation quill was summoned. It didn't pose enough of a threat to his Muggle machinery that he couldn't use it, thankfully, and the words in his head flowed easiest when spoken aloud.

It was how Kian tended to get his ideas down as well, drove Rhys absolutely mad. Draco's lips quirked as he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and imagined the chase. Buildings darted around or blasted through, spells dodged. This was, of course, post-stakeout where they had their most fascinating of conversations. More than one faithful reader claimed to adore the stakeouts the pair of Aurors often engaged in.

Vaguely, Draco wondered what kinds of conversations he and Ronald got into when on stakeouts... Probably something ridiculous or mundane. Quidditch, family. That sort of thing. There was certainly none of the sexual tension crowding them that crowded Kian and his partner. It made Draco shudder a little to consider such a thing. _Ron_ and Harry. How... how perfectly _obvious_.

Draco frowned, realizing he'd lost his train of thought, and looked down at his work. He'd given Rhys green eyes.

_Damn it_! Rhys did _not_ have green eyes. He had very specifically chosen for Rhys not to have green eyes. He grabbed the quill and magically scratched the description out. "Kian does not like green eyes," he muttered. Not that it was an issue. Not that Kian's dislike stemmed from something altogether personal.

Fucking Potter.

He glared down at his groin. "_Not_ like that." Though he would really not mind it like that. On a groan, Draco let his head fall back and pinched the bridge of his nose. This had so much potential to cause trouble.

"Draco?"

He lowered his hand, studying his mother in her portrait. It was odd and always would be. She was... in a _painting_. Several paintings, actually, but it wasn't necessarily _her_. It was unbearably close though and there were times where he wondered if he should just move her from his home. But then she'd be upset and he would miss her.

"Hello, mother. Is there a problem?"

She perched in the high-backed chair, offered a small smile. "Draco, you're sitting there in... pants. Clearly there's a problem. Where's Scorpius?"

"He's with Potter for the weekend."

"Ah."

Draco sighed, setting his quill aside and vaguely wishing he had a shirt. She may have been a portrait, but it _was_ disconcerting to know his mother was seeing him in his skivvies. Still, he employed the breeding she'd help instill in him and merely arched a pale brow. "Ah?"

"Draco," she began and Draco did something he never would've dared had she been alive.

He interrupted her. "Mother, I am fine. The house is empty. My son is a floo call away and I felt like working in my pants. I wasn't aware that I was required to don formal attire while working alone in my house."

Empty. Alone. Words that reminded her she wasn't actually in the house. That she wasn't actually alive. It pained him as much as it did her, but she rose and peered down her nose at him. "If you wish to be alone, you need only ask." And she was gone.

Draco slumped back in his chair, the hand lifting the bridge of his nose. Damn the electronics, he decided and a wave of his wand turned the portrait to face the wall in case his father felt the need to scold him. Lucius had always been one to scold if Draco did things beyond his acceptable views of the world, of pure-blooded ethics.

Fraternizing with the Weasleys, wanting to do more than fraternize with Harry Potter - both were beyond those acceptable views of Lucius Malfoy. Dead or alive, it seemed. _Fuck_, he missed his parents.

Draco swung open a very rarely used micro-fridge beneath his desk, realized he'd shorted it but not particularly caring. He located a small bottle and downed its contents, the heat of fire-whiskey burning him from the inside-out. A very good year, he decided, eyes watering, and wished he were talking of other things.

Rising, work now far from his mind, he strode out of the room to try and sleep.

* * *

><p>Gee. I wonder what's happening with Harry...<p> 


	5. Chatting

Another chapter, yay XD

* * *

><p>He couldn't sleep. That much was painfully obvious after fifteen minutes of staring at his ceiling. Where was bathtime? Where was that last apple, <em>please daddy<em>, before bed? Where was Perry landing on him just before Scorpius's little body followed because he couldn't sleep without just one more hug?

Bloody hell, was his sleep cycle really _that_ reliant on his son? He rolled out of bed, padded across the hall to his office to grab a sheet of parchment.

_Harry,_

_ I realize how late it is and I do hate to bother you. I find myself_

What? What could he write here? He missed his son, missed the routine. He vanished the last line.

_Could we chat? A floo call would be simpler, if you don't mind._

_~Draco_

Shaking his head, he rolled up the small sheet and wandered up to his little attic. There was hardly enough room to stand in it if one looked at the house from the outside, but Draco had always been fond of the charming little idea of having a big attic bedroom. It was made up as a guest room at the moment because Draco couldn't quite tolerate the idea of being all the way up here while his son was downstairs, but...

Well, he supposed he could stay up here this night. Though the thought was brushed aside as quickly as it came. It wasn't _his_ and Draco had always been fond of things that were his. He lifted an arm and the owl that descended upon it was a rather bulkier breed than he would normally have chosen. Since Arthur often had the burden of carting entire books, or at least sections, all the way to London (or beyond if Ernie was traveling at an inconvenient moment) bulky was better.

"You'll have a rather easy flight tonight, I imagine." He tied the note to his leg. "To Harry Potter. Return with the note if he's asleep, give it to him if he isn't. I don't expect a reply." He fished a treat from the bowl on the sill, a spot he only trusted the treats because Arthur was well-trained, and offered it. Arthur plucked it from his fingers with the grace of a much smaller bird and was gone.

And Draco felt foolish. One bloody night without his son and he was going mad. Grumbling to himself, he made his way down the stairs and to his kitchen. He grabbed one of Scorpius's apples purely out of habit and then decided to just keep it. They needed more anyway. A quick perusal of his fridge informed him that they needed more of everything and he vaguely wondered when he'd last gone out.

A quill was in his hand with a thought, the notepad stuck to the fridge via magnets was filled as Draco began making a list. Shopping. He could do that while Scorpius was out. While the boy was generally well-behaved in stores, there was always the inevitable "I want-" The moment those words were out, Draco would get absolute essentials if they weren't already in hand and get out. It was much easier to say "Not today" once and leave to get nonessentials later than to say it on repeat until Scorpius was just asking to ask.

"Little brat," he murmured fondly.

"Draco?"

He nearly jumped out of his pants which, Draco realized as he rounded on Harry, was still all he was wearing. Floo calls didn't require clothes. Floo calls... Shite, how long had he been in there? Entirely too long, judging from Harry's stance. His wand was in his hand and he was glancing about warily. When that emerald gaze finally settled on Draco, they widened a fraction and Draco cleared his throat. Well. Shite.

"Hello. I'm afraid I got a bit caught up."

His wand was tucked in his back pocket, which nearly made Draco smile. That was such a... childish place to put your wand. If it went off... "Caught up doing what?"

He tapped his quill to the list on the fridge, added bread to it before vanishing the quill. "Shopping list. It's easier to go without Scorpius. He's good, but-"

"When he wants something, he wants it." Harry tucked his hands in his pockets, leaned against the jamb and grinned. Draco's mouth watered. "The first time I took him anywhere, he behaved the entire time until we got to produce. He fell in a box of watermelons. Climbed right out of the little trolley and toppled in when my back was turned."

Now Draco did smile, but turned to dispose of his apple core before he could see the way Harry's eyes widened again. But he was biting his lip, just a bit, when Draco looked back. Smile gone, he gestured to himself. "I'm afraid you're the second person to catch me in this."

"Who-?"

"My mother. I was writing."

"Do you, ah, forget they're there?" At Draco's lifted brow, color flitted into Harry's cheeks. "Some of the things you write. How do you do it when your _parents_ can walk in at any moment?"

"Well, it isn't as if they can lean over my shoulder." There was bitterness in his tone that he tried to wave away, but Harry's curious gaze didn't waver. Well, the curiosity he could deal with. It was the concern, the genuine quality of it that was harder to resist. "It's difficult to know that they can't. But I keep that portrait in my office because mother enjoyed my books and it was always a good, simple way to communicate without sending owls or waiting for floo calls. Or getting distracted from possible calls," he added in an effort to move the conversation along.

"You miss them."

Draco started to run a hand through his hair, changing the motion to brush something invisible off his shoulder instead. He was entirely too comfortable with Har- Potter if he was going to muss his hair. It was bad enough that he was in his kitchen in his boxers. "Daily," he replied at length. "But it's getting easier. I snapped at mother tonight, so it's weighing rather heavily."

"You miss Scorpius."

Damn him and his astuteness. Draco flicked his gaze up. "I suppose it's silly. It's difficult to sleep without my child-driven routine."

"I had Teddy wear him out, so he dropped off pretty easily. They were running around the parlor catching snitches."

"Parlor? I wasn't aware your flat had a parlor."

Color tinted his cheeks again and Draco found himself smiling. It was nice to know that he could throw the auror off even in this rather... embarrassingly vulnerable position. He cocked his hip, rested against the side of the counter, and waited. "I stay at Grimmauld Place when I have Teddy. He feels more at home there; I guess it's an instinctual tie." He had _some_ werewolf tendencies (including an extremely strong sense of smell) and particularly enjoyed staying in the room his own parents had stayed in when it had still been safe to use as Order Headquarters. "I've got more room, at any rate, and Kreacher can help me when I need it."

"The house-elf."

Mild surprise passed over his face before memory and then caution before Harry cleared his throat and straightened from the wall. "Yeah."

And Draco knew he was about to flee. Neither of them were really very good at discussing the past, or even thinking about it when they came in contact with one another. It was nicer, easier to believe it hadn't even happened. That was obviously not conducive to this - what had he decided earlier? - this tentative friendship. "Come." Draco strode across the room and left the kitchen to sit in the dining room beyond.

Harry went along, sinking warily into the chair Draco gestured for him to sit in. It should've been much easier to sit across the table from him and not be facing a surprisingly lean and virtually nude Draco Malfoy in his kitchen. It was virtually impossible to sit across the table from him when there weren't any signs that he was clothed at all. It left things to the imagination that Harry wasn't quite able to beat back, things that quickened his pulse and - depending on how limber that lean body was - would put Draco's writing to shame.

But then Harry hadn't been laid in... a depressing amount of time and he was _holding_ one of those books. He wondered vaguely if Draco had even noticed that and then seized on the thought and set the book on the table. "Here. I finished this one. Wrote in the margins like you asked."

"Does it always take you this long to read a book?" Draco murmured, reaching across the table. He slid the book over and flipped it open, skimming a few pages at random. It seemed he'd spelled the word "raed" once or twice rather than "read" but little flubs like that were common when he typed too fast and he hadn't run this copy through the spell-check yet. He'd been curious to see what all Harry would catch.

And he found it interesting how well-cared for the text was. The pages were all relatively smooth, the corners not folded over as they too-often got when Draco had a piece of literature in his hands. It was when he got to one of the sexual scenes that some wear showed, at the edges where his fingers had gripped. Draco held the book out and up in both hands, his thumbs pressing over the creases. And it was the bottom corners, rather than the top that had been fiddled with.

It either showed great irritation while reading those scenes, or... Draco lifted a hand, bit his thumb, and heard an audible swallow. When he looked up, Harry's cheeks were red and his gaze was quickly averted. It was... well, Draco couldn't deny that he wasn't flattered... and turned-on to know that Harry focused so intensely on these parts. A quick flip-through, because he knew where each of those scenes were, showed the same intense focus and a lack of marking on them all. Clearly, he needed no extra assistance when it came to writing this.

He fingered the corner of a page where Harry had curled it already. "The auror sections?"

"Bits and pieces were off, but nothing too major. Nothing that'll harm the plot anyway."

"It isn't just the plot I'm worried about. I enjoy accuracy." Draco frowned and Harry wondered if he knew he looked pointier when he did that or when he sneered. He'd always thought during their school years that Draco was just a pointy-faced git, a ferret as Ron sometimes like to remind him. But even that amusing memory was tainted with the knowledge that what Mad-Eye had done had _actually_ been what Barty Crouch Jr. had done. And then, of course, came the irritable thought that old Mad-Eye was dead, gone before he could learn the outcome of the war. Gone before he could even learn the outcome of that little battle over Little Whinging.

He looked up to find Draco gazing at him, eyes as unreadable as they'd been since Harry had walked in. There's been a mild embarrassment at one point, a flash of humor. But other than that, Draco Malfoy tended to remain decidedly unreadable.

"When I made it home tonight, I thought of how unbelievable it was that I had eaten a meal with the Weasleys. More, that I'd enjoyed it and even stayed for conversation afterwards. It made me think of the past, of the reasons why it was so surprising. Are you good with dates, Potter?"

Back to 'Potter.' Harry leaned back, tried not to take offense. "Not really."

"Today was the day you faced off with merpeople during the Triwizard Tournament."

A lifetime ago. "How do you remember that?"

"It was ridiculously dull. So much waiting in those stupid stands. So much complaining. I remember Nott sat in front of me and he was fidgeting and crabby and kept looking back. 'Bloody fuck, Malfoy, why do you think we even have to be here? I say leave it to the 'Puffs and the damned Gryffindors. Cold as Merlin's tomb.' Crabbe grunted; he was fond of that..."

"Don't you call any of them by their first names?"

"Blaise and Pansy. For a time, Goyle was Greg or Gregory. He's decided to place himself on the outskirts of my familiarity, though."

"Obviously."

Draco tilted his head to the side, studying Harry carefully. He excelled with Occlumency, but he hadn't been able to master Legilimency. He'd always found his own mind so much more interesting than that of others. Though with Harry looking at him like that, Draco found himself wishing he'd studied both sides of that coin. "You sound angrier about it than I do."

"It was _bullshit_." Draco's lips quirked at that rather odd wording and would've asked where he'd heard it, but Harry continued. "That entire thing was. They had no right, _none_, to take you from Scorpius like that. And then to threaten the boy? No." Harry shook his head, clearly incensed. "Their reasonings were ridiculous and selfish, and abduction just isn't right to begin with."

"Ah." Draco toyed with his wand, considering something. "It's nice of you to be angry on my behalf."

Harry shrugged, looking away. "I've always been able to get angry."

"I'm aware."

It hung heavy between them for a moment, because Harry had looked back at him and was very obviously gazing at the top of a scar he'd inflicted eleven years before. Draco leaned back in his chair, lifting his gaze to Harry's. "I've managed to stay alive through your bouts of anger, luckily."

"I'm sorry about-"

"Don't." Draco shook his head. "It was rather obvious that you didn't have any idea what that spell was or did by your reaction. Myrtle panicked, didn't she?"

"Good thing she did," Harry said quietly and Draco rolled his eyes.

"The only thing that's greater than a Gryffindor's ability to be foolish is his ability to feel guilt. The fact is that I'm alive, several times over, thanks to you. I'm sure your Weasley has a running tally of all the times you've saved me. One accidental curse that I did _not_ die from is hardly worthy of guilt over a decade later. I've certainly had worse markings."

Harry's gaze flicked to the Dark Mark on the blonde's forearm, then quickly back. Draco turned his arm, gazed at it. "If I'd known this was going to become such a heart-to-heart, I may have just forced myself to go to sleep."

"Sorry. You, ah, didn't answer the call and your note wasn't exactly informative."

"No. I wasn't entirely sure what to say. It seems my sleep schedule is child regulated." He ordered himself to get back to familiar territory, away from the past. "I was wondering how he was doing and trying to figure out how not to seem entirely pathetic because of it."

"It's not pathetic to worry about your son. I'd be dead if your mother didn't worry about you."

Draco slowly met Harry's gaze once more. "Do you know she never told me about that. Never. I heard about it during the trials and when I asked her about it, she wouldn't explain. I never asked again. Why did she do it? Had he realized or even suspected that she was lying..."

"She did it for the same reason my mother got in Voldemort's way, the same reason you hid Scorpius in an alley and kept him safe rather than let him get taken with you."

Draco leaned back, studying the brunette. "Parents are incredibly ridiculous creatures."

Harry laughed. "I've dodged a curse, then." He got to his feet. "Anyway, I should go. The boys were asleep when I left, but who knows now? Kreacher won't be able to handle them both."

"Of course." Draco rose, lifted a hand towards the kitchen and out to the living room. "I'll show you out."

His lips twitched as he made his way through the kitchen. "That Malfoy breeding just doesn't die, does it?"

"Please, Potter, would anyone with _less_ than Malfoy breeding be able to face you in pants?" Reaching the living room, Draco went to the floo to get his powder pot from the mantle.

The twitching became a full grin. "Would anyone with Malfoy breeding be able to face me in less than pants?"

Grateful his back was turned so Harry wouldn't see the color that rushed to his face, Draco cleared his throat. "Well. That all depends on the occasion. Malfoy breeding naturally prepares one for all kinds of situations."

He turned to find Harry beet red, his own statement apparently catching up with him. Draco offered the floo powder and a pinch was quickly taken up. "Ah... Alright, then."

Draco returned the powder to the mantle. "For the record, Harry, I think you would make a rather excellent parent. The children clearly adore you and you're not exactly-"

Whatever else he'd been aiming to say was quickly muffled by Harry's rather warm, full lips. Harry had grabbed his arm to spin him and was still holding it, his other hand coming up to Draco's shoulder. In defense from the spin, Draco's hand had lifted and was now curled tightly in the brunette's shirt. But it was nothing, really, just a firm press of lips to his.

It was a good thing he was holding Harry's shirt, though, because that firm press of lips made his knees weak. Harry stepped back after a moment, swallowing hard. "Well... I probably wasn't going to sleep anyway." He tossed the powder in. "Grimmauld Place," he announced and stepped through.

Draco lifted a hand and clung to the mantle, staring into the flames long after they'd gone back to their natural hue. "Well... lovely chatting with you too, Potter."

* * *

><p>Chats are always fun, aren't they?<p> 


	6. Getting Somewhere

UGH. I legit need to get better at updating this D: I miss my every other day updates and I'm sure you all do, too. Maybe? My ego says you do! MY EGO ISN'T WRONG, IS HE?

Yes. My ego is a guy. There's no way something this irritating is anything less. I've named him Frank.

Aaaaanyway. I'LL TRY AND GET THE NEXT CHAPTER UP SOON.

Another fic I've been writing with Becoming-Obsessed, _Wingardium Leviosa_, has been distracting me as much as the real world issues that have been exploding in my life. So many apologies D: But that one's very close to being finished - One more chapter and then an epilogue! - so I'll be able to turn more attention to this soon :D

I love you all! Enjoy~

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't entirely sure what to think. Besides the fact that sleepless nights were <em>not<em> conducive to spending a day with a couple of rowdy children. He'd expected Teddy to cause some trouble - he always did. But pairing him with Scorpius? Horrible idea. His godson's excitable personality was clearly rubbing off entirely too easily on Scorpius. The only good news was that the five year old was collapsing twenty minutes after lunch for a nap, Perry as his pillow since the crash had occurred on the floor of the parlor.

Kreacher had retreated to his cupboard not long after breakfast and retreat really was the right word for that desperate fleeing. Harry had found himself envying the house-elf, which was rather telling. He knew, though, that he never wanted to deal with these two on his own again. He was getting to Draco as early as possible on Sunday.

Which just brought him back full circle. Since he'd finally gotten Teddy to settle down with a puzzle - "If you do anything loud, you'll wake up Scorp and then he won't be much fun since he'll still be tired" - Harry could now relax in the kitchen with a cuppa. And his thoughts kept careening back to Draco, no matter how many other paths they tried to take.

It was his own fault. The sleepless night as well as the current lack of control over his thought process. And, yeah, he'd taken one mouth-watering look at Draco Malfoy in _pants_ and he'd known without a doubt that he wouldn't ever get that image out of his mind and that it would undoubtedly keep him awake. But kissing him? That was just insane. He'd been expecting the blonde to climb through his floo and take away his son the entire day.

And it was very difficult not to think too hard on what it meant that Draco _hadn't_ come and taken the boy. It could very easily mean that Draco hadn't minded the kiss... Assumptions like that would only lead to more idiotic impulses, though, so the thought was banished.

The thought returned and he groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. If Draco _had_, however slim the chance, enjoyed the kiss, that didn't mean he could just... do it again. It was miraculous enough that he hadn't been hexed twice over, no matter how... chaste it had been. Just a quick press of lips. Almost friendly, if Harry thought about it. Almost.

Not at all. Not in any fashion had that been friendly. Shite. He couldn't even tell _why_ he'd done it. Beyond the obvious, anyway. He'd come in by floo, a little panicky when Draco hadn't answered the call or seemed to be anywhere in the room, when he'd been the one to bloody well send an owl. He'd worried immediately, despite knowledge that Goyle and Greengrass were in the bottom of the Ministry awaiting trial, that he'd been taken again, and had followed the light in the kitchen.

And there'd been all that _skin_. All that fit, begging to be touched skin. Surely it couldn't be as smooth as it had looked... His mouth was certainly warmer than _it_ looked. All those cool looks he sent Harry's way weren't indicative of his lips, their firmness, the possibly imagined willingness to part. Harry was fairly certain that it wouldn't have taken long for Draco to be pinned right against his mantle for a thorough snogging.

Which led to the thoughts and imaginings which had kept him up all bloody night. It was easier when he hadn't known what was under all those clothes the Slytherin wore. Harry couldn't remember ever, not even as students, wearing anything less than long-sleeved shirts and long trousers. Very well-cut trousers, if memory served. Yeah. He blew out a breath. Very well-cut, indeed. Even if he'd had the personality of a clod of mud.

Maybe. That memory was rather tempered with the years between and the fact that, well, they'd been at each others' throats since that first day. Since Draco had taken it upon himself to seek Harry out on the train, his hulking gorillas on either side of him, and offered his hand and a few pompous opinions. Harry hadn't accepted either and things had just... dissolved from there. He couldn't say he regretted it, though. He really couldn't ask for better friends than Ron and Hermione, never would've gotten as close to them if he'd taken Draco's hand that day.

His entire life would probably be different if that one decision had gone another way, and Harry really didn't think he wanted to know how. He couldn't even _imagine_ how sixth and seventh year would've gone. And then fourth... A part of him had always wondered if Draco had known that Voldemort would be returning at the end of the Tournament. He hadn't seemed to have any idea who Moody really was, so...

So.

Harry rose, wandering to the sink with his cup. He rinsed it out, sighing quietly. Why did thoughts about Draco always go back to their school days? Was it the comparison? Because, really, the man he knew and the boy he'd known seemed vastly different. But, well, he'd hardly known the boy and was just barely getting to know the man. Their conversation the night before had been one of their longest... _the_ longest, actually. Something was usually able to interrupt things before they got deep, be it his own retreat or Scorpius.

He didn't want to have deep conversations with Draco Malfoy, not really. Or not yet. Harry considered a moment before nodding. Not yet. Whatever was happening between the pair of them was too tentative. Talking about the past would just lead to arguments, wouldn't it? Harry was rather enjoying not arguing with him.

He frowned as it occurred to him that they hadn't fought at all the night before, not even when they'd discussed the scar a stupidly cast Sectumsempra had left behind. He'd been flippant over it, dismissive. The Draco Harry recalled would've taken the opportunity to exploit Harry's guilt or rant over the fact that his skin had been marred or... or something as equally shallow and irritating.

It was frustrating, truly, that the man wasn't reacting as the boy would have. But the war had taken the boy out of plenty of his friends. Bloody hell, he could still clearly see Neville's face when that passage had opened up, the cuts and bruises. He remembered Seamus's as well - boy was hardly recognizable, not until he'd spoken at any rate. People had been dying the past two years, more had died just that night.

And it hadn't ended there. Harry had been sure it would be over. Voldemort's dead; let's have normal lives now. No. Trial after trial after bloody trial... And they'd wanted his testimony at each and every one. He could even remember the absolute shock in Draco's eyes if he thought of his testimony for Narcissa.

Actually, that was the only thing he could remember about that testimony. Draco had stared at him throughout and Harry had stared right back. He'd told the story _to_ Draco, hadn't he? Yes. Yes, he had. And wasn't that a revelation?

Harry frowned, drying out his little cup and stowing it in one of the cupboards. Once he'd caught sight of Draco, he hadn't been able to look anywhere else. Had that been where the attraction - Harry wasn't going to waste time pretending he wasn't attracted to the blonde - had really started? Maybe. It was more likely that it had been there... It _had_ just been there if he thought too hard about it. Why else would Malfoy aways have been the first person he thought of when something went wrong? Or when things went right, honestly - wait til Malfoy heard about _this_. Even if those thoughts tended to be a bit petty. At least he didn't have them anymore.

He had _other_ things to think about when it came to Draco Malfoy, even if those thoughts weren't exactly... Well, they very likely weren't going to happen, were they? And that was just depressing. Before he'd left Molly's, Hermione had given him a hug and a whispered, "Really, Harry, sexual repression isn't good for you. Particularly at your age."

He couldn't deny that she was probably right. He needed to get laid. The issue was _who_ he wanted. That wasn't exactly the best of ideas. The _kiss_ hadn't been the best of ideas, but Draco hadn't... Harry cut himself off. It didn't matter if Draco hadn't pushed him away or anything; the kiss had been way too brief for that anyway. If he'd tried to deepen it, who knows what may have happened?

Nothing would've happened. He told himself so firmly... but he couldn't make himself believe it, which was a problem. He didn't really want to jeopardize this tentative friendship that they were developing. It was honestly pretty weird to think about it - he was becoming _friends_ with Draco. Though it wasn't a very good sign that after their first semi-deep conversation, Harry had momentarily lost his mind and kissed him.

So... do the smart thing and keep from these deep conversations or do what he wanted and try for some kind of other relationship? Though it was very likely that anything more than a tentative relationship would simply blow up in their faces. His face, since he was the one trying for more. Most likely Draco wouldn't have two words to say to him the next time they saw one another...

Harry wasn't looking forward to that. "Potter?"

Oh. Well. Shite. It didn't seem to matter if he was looking forward to it or not. He turned and offered a small smile. "Hi." Draco nodded and was, Harry noted, fully dressed. The little wave of disappointment was rather irritating, so the brunette ran a hand through his hair and hoped it didn't show. "What're you...?"

"Doing here?" Draco shrugged slightly. "I finished shopping and found the house rather unbearably silent. It doesn't seem to be much better here."

"Yeah. Scorp wore himself out, so I pressed a puzzle on Teddy. The pieces move, so it confuses him sometimes, but he'll finish it or spend the rest of the day annoyed." Harry closed his mouth, cutting off his ramblings, and just waited.

Draco sighed, lifted a hand and waved it dismissively. He'd spent the night thinking on how he would act the next time he saw Harry and a nonchalant attitude was probably best, considering what had occurred. "Don't be awkward, Potter. We've managed to get along thus far; I'd rather not ruin it with you tip-toeing around." Even if they had both been tip-toeing around and both knew it. "Understand?"

"Yeah." Harry's smile widened. "Yeah, alright. You want a cuppa while you're waiting on Scorpius to wake up? Tea should still be hot."

Nodding, Draco sank into a chair. "And don't skimp on the sugar."

"Excuse me while I drown in my surprise," Harry teased and laughed when Draco only lifted a brow. "You used to get these packages at school. They were always loaded with sweets."

"It's fascinating that you would pay attention to me that closely, let alone remember such a detail."

"It was hard not to pay attention to you," Harry admitted, turning away to fiddle with his tea kettle. "So you, ah, came to get Scorpius?"

"No. Taking him from you a day early would upset him. I suppose I was just curious. How are he and Teddy getting along?"

"Like they've known each other their entire lives." Harry grinned, setting a sugar-laced cup before Draco. "But Teddy's used to being around younger kids. The oldest is Victoire and she's still two years younger."

"Victoire would be the one who said chasing dogs was improper?"

"But the moment the thing was close enough, she grabbed him." Harry dropped down in another chair, amused. "Yeah. Dominique's the one who was all for getting grubby. There's Molly and Lily, too. They're Percy's girls and just around Scorpius's age. Molly's six, actually."

"Percy? The Weasley with glasses. I believe he worked for the Ministry?"

"Yeah." Harry cocked his head to the side. "I didn't know you paid that much attention. He was quite a few years ahead of us."

"I don't remember him at all from school, but for hearing 'First Years, follow me' in the background at a few points in time. It was seventh year that I remember him from. Pius Thicknesse suggested him at some point."

Harry remembered the former Minister of Magic with less than fondness, even if he had only been under the Imperius Curse. "Suggested him for what?"

"Infiltration. Thicknesse was under the impression that using the Imperius on Percy would be a good way to get into and break apart the Order, but we knew already from those close to Scrimgeour that he wasn't close to the family. This was before the fall of the Ministry, of course. Percy left then. Excellent timing on his part, I suppose. He was about to go under the curse because _he_ thought that would be the best moment, the smartest moment. Get Percy in at a logical time so he could find out what you were up to."

Since Harry was only staring at him, Draco sighed. "Potter, if we're going to get anywhere, hiding from the past isn't going to do us any good."

"Get anywhere?" Harry wondered, certain the blonde couldn't mean what Harry hoped he did.

Draco's eyes rolled. "If you're that thick-"

"No. I just... Really?"

"Well, you aren't the only one who spent a sleepless night." He sipped his tea, watching Harry over the top of the cup. He could see, much to his amusement, things clicking together in his mind. He'd spent much of his night deciding on how to go about this. If Harry was going to do ridiculous things like kissing him goodbye, then there was clearly a mutual attraction. Dancing around it was as foolish as throwing himself headlong into a relationship - though the last was a bit harder to avoid now that he was watching a slow smile spread over Harry's face. He had Scorpius to think about, he reminded himself. Besides, his last serious relationship had culminated in an abduction, so he was a bit leery of that.

And wasn't that just bloody pathetic? He hid his grimace in his drink. "I'll take that silly grin as a good sign."

Harry laughed and Draco's grimace was twitching into a smile. "So what first?" But before Draco could answer, Harry was speaking again. "Wait, no. Do you have anything you need to do today?"

Since he hadn't been able to sleep and thinking about Harry Potter wasn't very productive, he'd spent half the night writing. He quickly calculated what he'd managed to get done versus what he'd manage to do during the day. He'd already discovered that he'd developed a very start-and-stop style, which he could attribute directly to Scorpius, so it wasn't as though he were getting much more done than he would without the boy.

"I've already completed what I had planned."

"I was going to take the boys out once Scorpius woke up. Diagon Alley and the like. I have some things I need to pick up and George wanted me to stop at Wheezes, too. So d'you want to come along?"

"Do all your days include Weasleys?"

"Since I work with one, yeah."

Draco lowered his cup, offering an amused smile. "I suppose getting used to the color _red_ won't be the end of the world."

"Fitting a Malfoy into my routine won't be either."

Now Draco's brow rose. "Oh, Potter, you'll be the one situating yourself into _my_ routine. I'm the one with the child. Which I do have to keep in mind," he added.

"I know. I... I love the kid." Harry shrugged, clearly embarrassed by the admission. "So whatever... whatever _this_ is, I'll be careful when it comes to him."

"Good. Now Scorpius shouldn't be down for more than an hour at a time or he'll never get to bed. And judging by that ridiculous smile, it's already been more than that."

"It has been, but I was smiling more at how quick you go into daddy-mode."

"I'm a single father, you twit. I have no other mode." Draco rose, sending his empty cup to the sink before walking out to awaken his son. Harry's laugh followed him out.


End file.
